


Seaside Daydreams

by SweatersAndScarves (SlaveToMyKeyboard)



Series: Bubbleverse [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble, Dream Bubbles, M/M, Meteorstuck, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Pale-Red Vacillation, Romantic Fluff, kind of Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 19:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6485305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlaveToMyKeyboard/pseuds/SweatersAndScarves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't know who any of the others visit in the dream bubbles, heck you don't know if they even visit anyone at all, but when you curl up on the sofa for a well-deserved nap, your mind knows exactly where to take you.</p><p>A sad-ish fluffy drabble about dream bubble relationships (or one, sepecifically). Could be set post- or pre-retcon, whichever you prefer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seaside Daydreams

You hop over a little gap in the rocks, trying to look at your feet whilst blocking out the endless void that stretches below them. You’ve done this countless times before, but you still get jelly-legs before each little jump. It’s stupid really, because you can’t die in the dream bubbles – you’ll just wake up – but you guess it’s tough to ignore basic survival instincts like “don’t jump into the fucking void you panwasted numbskull”. Then you remember that it is kind of relevant because you have places to go and shit to do, and waking up now would completely ruin your sleeping self’s plans. Which are also your plans. Dream logistics are complicated.

A little more walking and a few nervous jumps later, you find yourself on familiar yellow sand, and as you keep moving, a dark sky and murky waves form around you. You’re going to be honest, this place used to fucking terrify you because of all the water, but you got used to it. Sort of. Okay, you’re still a little freaked out, but it doesn’t matter because soon you spot the whole reason you even come here, and it takes a lot of control not to run over there. Not that you _don’t_ want to run over there and pouncetackle him like you’re in one of Nepeta’s roleplays, but you don’t exactly trust your legs not to make you slip ass over horn and wake yourself up.

Either you’re being particularly stealthy today, or he’s lost deep in an especially interesting thought, because you manage to get so close that there’s only a few steps distance between you before he notices. He’s sitting with his chin on his knees as per usual, but as you stop walking, he lifts his head, fins twitching as he listens for more of your footsteps. You take a very large step forwards and look down at him just as he looks up.

“Hey fishface.”

“Kar!” His fins wiggle like crazy as he gives you a sharp-fanged grin, his white eyes wide as he gazes into yours.

That also used to creep you out, but you’ve talked to enough dead Trolls to just sort of get used to seeing it. You smile back and kneel down behind him, putting your arms around his shoulders as you peck a gentle kiss behind his fin. He chirrs happily, turning his head to nuzzle at your face.

“Sorry I haven’t visited in a while,” You say, being mindful of his glasses as you push your forehead against his, “things have been a little hectic lately.”

He shrugs, “Time doesn’t really mean much here Kar, I’m just glad you vvisit at all.”

You sigh. He says that every single time you meet up like this, sometimes with a smile and sometimes with tears. It’s equally pitiful regardless of his mood though – in fact the first time was what made you realise how stupid pale you were for him in the first place, when he’d come up to you looking all small and forlorn, and just stood there, like he was waiting for you to leave. You couldn’t leave though. Yes, he’d done some terrible things, but diabolically shitty decisions aside, it wasn’t _entirely_ his fault. Everyone had a hand in what went down back in the world of the living. You can’t help your blood, or who you hate, just like you can’t help who you pity. It would be nice if you didn’t have to pity a ghost though.

You release your grip on his neck and shuffle around to let him pull you into his lap.

“So, wwhat’s been goin’ on that kept you so busy?” He asks, running his fingers through your hair.

“Just preparing for the end game, dealing with a bunch of assholes, expanding can town, you know, the usual.”

He laughs a little, “Sounds rough.”

You manage a chuckle, “Yeah, it is.”

Then you remember that you haven’t got forever here, and you don’t want to spend what time you do have talking about the very things that made you decide to spend most of tonight asleep. So, before Eridan can ask for details like the gossipy little nerd he is, you place your hands either side of his jaw and bump your noses together, waiting a moment before you press your lips to his, letting your eyes flutter closed at the familiar chill of his skin. He sighs and returns the pressure, holding you tight against his body as you tangle your fingers in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. A purr bubbles up in your throat, and it’s like coming home when you feel his chest rumble to match it. For the first time in way too long, you’re finally able to relax. No humans squabbling or girls pestering you, just the sound of the waves and the alternating hum that means more than a thousand words.

He pulls back just a little, your lips still touching as he speaks, “You’re too good to me Kar.”

“No,” you whisper, giving him a quick peck, “don’t say that, nothing’s too good for you okay?”

He worms his way out of replying by diving back in for another kiss, coaxing your mouth open in a way that makes you not really care if he’s listening to what you tell him. For now, anyway. He slides his tongue against yours, slow and soft, almost teasing, like he’s enticing you to ask for more. And you do, because you might be shooting more for a Moirallegence here, but moments like this are as close as you can get to actually just letting go, giving in to what _you_ want, not what someone else needs. You let out a breathy little whimper, grabbing a handful of his hair as he whines in reply, pushing further into your mouth. He leans back onto the sand until you’re practically lying on top of him, keeping your lips in contact the whole time and his hands firmly settled on your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles around your grub scars.

Even like this, when you’re making out on the beach like in every romcom ever that’s set within a few miles of the ocean, there’s barely anything red about it. You could probably go there if you wanted to, but with everything that’s been going on lately, you just want whatever this is; no quadrants or labels, just someone who _understands_. And you know Eridan understands, you didn’t think anyone ever would, especially not a sea-dweller, not with your blood colour – Dave tries, but he’s still human after all – but somehow this stuck-up, fish-faced moron just _does_. You feel so comfortable around him, like you could fall asleep if you weren’t dreaming already.

Your kisses gradually get lazier, slower, until you break away completely, resting your head against his chest. He doesn’t have a pusherbeat – yet again, adjusting to that creepy little detail – but he’s still purring right in your ear and that’s enough for you.

“Wwant to go inside?” He asks, giving you a little nudge as a hint to sit up, “wwe could wwatch a movvie or somethin’? I bet all a your favvourites wwill be in there noww you’re here.”

You think for a moment, “Maybe not a movie, seems like a waste of time, but you could always show me some more of those shitty weapons you have tucked away in there?”

His whole body had sunk when you said no to his suggestion, but at yours his fins ping up and he smiles, taking your hand and dragging you up to his hive. You’d never been in this massive shipwreck he calls home before, but now you know it like the back of your hand – or at least this version of it from his memories. He says it’s not all that different from the real one, but then again he would say that, since it’s only made up from things he can remember. You make yourself comfortable in one of the few afterlife additions – a pile of capes and pillows – and wait for him to return from the brig, which is apparently where he kept the rather substantial store of weapons that he’d pilfered during his FLARPing days. So far you’ve just been introduced to a lot of guns, which you can tell are his favourite, but this time he comes back up with an armful of swords.

“Hey, watch it man!” You say as he dumps them just inches from your feet.

“Oh hush up, they ain’t gonna hurt you,” He pats your head and joins you in the pile, “most a these wwere just for decoration anywway, I mean look at this,” he grabs a heavily jewelled hilt, supporting it with both hands as he lifts up the blade, “wwho in their right pan wwould look at this an’ think it wwas gonna be good in a fight?”

You scoff, “Maybe the same guy who coats his hands in so much fucking jewellery, that he couldn’t be a pickpocket if someone paid him to?”

He gives you his disapproving look, the one with the cocked eyebrow and pursed lips, “Oh ha ha, howw vvery funny, I’m serious Kar you should be a laughsassin.”

He says it all with a deadly straight expression, but when you grin at him and waggle your eyebrows, he smiles back and laughs, locking you into another tight embrace. It’s sad in a way, that he’s the happiest you’ve seen him in a long time but only after he died. You shake your head to get all of those morbid thoughts out of your pan. This is your time together; you shouldn’t be spoiling it by making yourself depressed.

“So, which one of these _would_ make a good weapon in a fight then?” You say, prodding at the other blade handles with your foot.

“Wwell, depends wwhat type a blade you’re lookin’ for,” Eridan then proceeds to talk you through the different types of swords he has, and how each of them would work differently in battle. You only really know about sickles, but you can still relate to a lot of what he’s saying, unlike the gun discussions which end up very one-sided. Not that you mind though, you’re content to just listen to him talk, watch his face light up when he remembers some remarkable fact, or finds a particular point of interest to show you. “So I guess if I wwas pickin’ for you, I’d go wwith somethin’ compact, like this,” He hands you a blade no longer than your forearm, “lets you be quick an’ get lots a hits in, but it’s still sharp as fuck so you can deal some damage.”

You can’t help picking up on the way he said ‘compact’ instead of small. That’s always how he’s described you, along with other cheesy lines like ‘good things come in little packages’. You smile and twist the sword around in your hand. It’s pretty decent actually, still a little showy for your tastes, but this is Eridan’s collection after all. You give it back to him and he sets it carefully away from the pile with the others. Then he wraps his cape around your shoulders, pulling you close as his other hand slips into yours, twining your fingers together.

You sigh and bury your face into his shirt, “I don’t want to go back.”

“I don’t wwant you to go either,” He says, giving your hand a squeeze, “but I think I’d feel wworse if you wwere stuck here wwith me.”

“ _Really_?”

“Wwell no, _obvviously_ , I’d spend fuckin’ eternity wwith you if I could,” He presses a kiss against the base of your horn, “but wwhat I’m sayin’ is that I’d rather see you like this than knoww you wwere dead too.”

God fucking dammit, now you’re going to cry. Why do you do this to yourself? Why does he feel the need to help you do this to yourself? You smack him across the chest and hide your face even more, afraid to speak in case the emotions bubble over.

“Wwhat wwas that for?”

You swallow back the tightness in your throat, “You’re going to make me cry, you asshole.”

He goes silent, as if he’s trying to figure out whether you’re joking. Spoilers – you’re really not.

“Sorry lovve.” He says when he realises, peppering you with tender, chaste kisses and smoothing over your body with gentle touches.

“It’s fine,” You say when you can trust yourself to speak, “I’m just being a big wiggler.”

He scoops you up, cradling you in his lap like said newly hatched member of your species, “I’m alwways here for you, you knoww that.”

You nod, snuggling up to his chest as he makes himself comfortable in the pile. You always do this when it’s nearing time for you to go. No sappy goodbyes, you just go to sleep and wake up in different places. Sleeping in a dream bubble is – ironically – often a good way to get your waking self to stop. It’s also one of the least painful ways of leaving a place that you wish you didn’t have to.

“I’ll be here for you when the game’s over,” You mumble, “I’ll find you and then we can just do this all the time, no fucking time limits or weird dream bubble nonsense. We’ll watch movies, and eat whatever we want, and talk about shitty weapons, in a pile made of the most stupidly plush and extravagant things that time space has to offer. Just us.”

“Sounds perfect.” He whispers, purring again as you do the same.

***

When you open your eyes, you’re met with the dingy grey wall of the common room. You sigh heavily and sit up, letting Strider’s stupid quadrants blanket fall onto the floor.

“Morning sleepyhead.” He says, offering you a mug of coffee.

You nod in thanks and take it. The silence hangs for a while, broken only by your intermittent sipping at the watered down sludge that barely passes for a warm beverage. Then Dave takes a breath and you prepare to find out what went wrong whilst you were having a break.

But instead he says, “Did you know you purr when you’re asleep?”

Your spine goes rigid, and you hold on to your cup way tighter than you should, “I-I do?”

“Yeah, is that like a normal Troll thing?”

“Yeah, it uh, it means we’re happy,” You say to the dregs of your coffee, “or we’re trying to be anyway.”

“Oh,” He chuckles slightly, “figures you’d be happiest when you’re sleeping.”

You scoff and nudge his leg. Back to normality you guess.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been binge reading the last act of homestuck to catch up for the last update, and I got some feels about all the ghosts in the dream bubbles, and then this happened.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this (and that it didn't turn out too sad!), kudos and comments are always appreciated <3


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